


A Quiet Day

by lady_wordsmith



Series: Memories (Bucky/Reader) [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Past Relationship(s), Reader-Insert, Romance, and some small bit of information, filler chapter, with some hidden chekov's guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6357685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_wordsmith/pseuds/lady_wordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have a relatively quiet day to yourself.<br/>(Or: a filler chapter with the Reader Character that starts to very slowly begin the eventual intersection between her and Bucky's paths, and also show how close their paths have come to crossing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Quiet Day

It’s cold when you wake up. You sigh in frustration. Your roommate must have turned off the heat again. Save money, your ass, the bitch just wanted you walking across cold floors in the morning. If you didn’t need her half of the rent, you would have cut her throat in her sleep ages ago.

You sigh. You need coffee, desperately. You sit up, reaching for a pair of striped pajama pants and a tank top to get dressed in, because it’s too cold to bare-ass it into your kitchen. Before you leave your room, you see your favorite oversized plaid flannel button down. You grab it without hesitation. It was one of the few clothing pieces you brought back from Europe, and you always wear it when you have a chance. Red and black plaid, warm and fuzzy, not just the cloth, but the memories.

 

> _“You’re wearing my shirt.”_
> 
> _“Warm. Reminds me of you.”_
> 
> _A cat-like smile and kind eyes. “Well, then, I guess that’s alright.”_

You hadn’t heard from Giamo since you came home. You hoped he was okay, and that when he thought of you, it was fondly and not just as ‘the crazy American bitch I followed for a year.’

Sue you. You knew how the whole tale looked. Nervous breakdown, flying to Europe, no communication or even a note. Crazy people do that, selfish people do that.

You _weren’t_ crazy. Jury was still out on selfish. Besides, you could barely explain yourself what had possessed you, what made you think that it was all a good idea. But you wouldn’t change it, not for anything.

The smell of your coffeepot perking brings you to reality. You pour yourself a cup and begin thinking about what you have to do for the day. A class in the afternoon. A meeting with your dissertation advisor. Nothing complicated, nothing too stressful. Heading into your living room and clicking the thermostat back on, you pull your plaid flannel just a little closer. Sometimes you think you can catch a faint hint of his scent on the shirt, but you know that’s ridiculous. It’s been years.

You put your coffee on the coffee table and sit on the couch. There’s a book on the table. You pick it up and make another mental note to kill your roommate because she really needs to stop rummaging through your bookshelves when she’s bored. The book is a worn paperback, crinkled from numerous reads and rereads. You bought it from a secondhand shop after you came home, stirred by the memory of reading the book to Giamo, late one night as the two of you lie in bed together. Giamo had horrible nightmares and you read to him when he had one, to take his mind off of the things in his head.

 

> _“’These items are from the official history of the Ch’ing dynasty. The word ‘defeat’ occurs with striking regularity, and the more often it appears the more it serves as an indication-‘”_
> 
> _“They needed better military.” He’s practically wrapped around you, and his breath is warm as his voice drifts low and soft into your ear._
> 
> _“I can stop, if you like. Read something else. Hemingway?” You’re not teasing, not quite. He always offers a running commentary of whatever you read, and you just offer a sarcastic response when it suits you. In his good moods, he’ll offer something back and it goes back-and-forth until it eventually ends with the book abandoned somewhere on the floor as you tell him to show you what else he can do with his mouth._
> 
> _Tonight is a little darker. He just nods back to the book and waits for you to continue. You gaze at him for a moment, trying to read his expression before turning back to the book._
> 
> _“-’It serves as an indication of the intensity of the approaching storm.”_

You put the book back in your room. Grabbing your cell phone, you check it to find a text from Lane, asking you to come over to Hayden’s.

He doesn’t have to ask twice, really.

* * *

 

Time flies. It always does. Before you know you know it, the day is over and you’re home. Your ankle aches, but you ignore it until you can sit on the couch and prop it up.

Your fault for trying to outrun Lane. You should really know better by now. But when your cousins egg you on, you can’t help but take the challenge, every single time. You’ve ended up with loads of injuries that way, some of them weird. That time you accidentally cut your shoulder still sticks out in your mind, if only because you can’t remember how precisely it happened.

Your roommate left a note saying she was at her boyfriend’s for the night. Good. You looked forward to having a night to yourself for once. You decide to order Chinese and watch a movie. You get a semi-flirty text from Lane’s friend Deron, but you ignore it. He’s not your type and besides, tonight is for you. Tonight is egg rolls and lo mein and pajamas and a movie. Maybe some wine if you feel particularly indulgent.

You place your Chinese order and look over your DVD collection. You’re not sure what you want to watch. You always have that problem. Your friends, cousins, and everyone else tease you about it all the time. The only person who never teased you was Giamo.

You’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. It’s weird. You barely thought about him for years after you came home from Europe. It was only after the events in Washington, D.C. that you found him in your thoughts more and more. You’re still not sure why.

The events in D.C. had been big news that you heard about for weeks. You had heard it all: SHIELD, HYDRA, and Captain America. The Winter Soldier had been fascinating to you. The idea of an assassin who operated in such a way most people weren’t sure he even existed was the stuff of spy novels and not the sort of thing you expected to happen in real life. Then when it was revealed that the Winter Soldier was really James Buchanan Barnes and the history that brought up? Novelworthy, that was for sure.

You weren’t sure you believed James Barnes was really a willing assassin for some kind of terrorist group that had operated under the radar for decades. Especially since you read everything you could on the subject of James Barnes and found out he was Captain America’s friend and had actually fought HYDRA until his apparent death. It seemed odd that he would do some kind of flip.

You’d bet money there was more to that story. You kept quiet on it, though; mentioning anything about HYDRA and the Winter Soldier upset Lane like nothing you’d ever seen.

You shook your head. Why were you thinking about that stuff? Oh yeah, Giamo. That stuff made you think of him more, for some reason. Maybe some longing for a more innocent time? Nostalgia? You have no idea.

You missed him, but you weren’t sure how or why. It was confusing, and thinking about it confused you more.

But movies. Giamo never teased you about your inability to make up your mind. If anything, on the occasions the two of you had gone to the movies on your travels, Giamo himself had seemed overwhelmed by the amount of choices. He told you once that he grew up poor, and even when he went to the movies there hadn’t been choices like the ones the two of you saw.

You wished you had saved the ticket stubs. Normally you saved things like that. You can’t remember why you didn’t. Maybe you gave them to Giamo, figuring he needed the memories more. Who knew?

You finally pick out a movie as your order shows up. Paying the deliveryman, you head back into your living room and settle in for your movie with your food.

 As you watch the movie and eat, you idly wish you had someone to cuddle with.  You haven’t really dated in years, haven’t felt the desire to, but sometimes you miss it. Giamo had been a great cuddler, in a good mood. Even in his bad moods, he always seemed to want to be touching you in some way, even if it was just holding your hand.

You figured that was just the way he was, being Italian and all. He was demonstrative in his affection for you, even with his occasional hesitations and shy smiles. You liked it then and missed it now. He was the first guy you had ever really fallen for, and you fell hard. He really set the bar high for anyone who came after him, and you still hadn’t found anyone who measured up.

You were okay with that, most of the time. Sometimes you missed him, but you weren’t sure if it was him you missed or the affection he gave you. Maybe both. That was okay.

You were willing to wait for a man who could measure up to Giamo.

* * *

 

_You were alone, now. He was gone. You wondered if they had captured him yet. Maybe, maybe not. But you couldn’t take that chance. You told him you would do this. You promised. Even if he didn’t remember you now, you had to do this. The two of you couldn’t take any chances._

_Idly thumbing the device you would record the audio on, you nodded to yourself. You could do this. You could forget._

_You wondered if he would escape them, if he would come and find you. You had put the failsafes up, but you worried nonetheless. You had no idea if that had been good enough, if you had been good enough. There was a chance that they could break through, that they could erase even that little part of him you had tried to save. Or maybe the failsafe would wear off before he escaped, before it was safe for him to remember. You had no idea what would happen then._

_And you wondered about you. What if you couldn’t do this? You knew you had to, but what if you failed to make yourself forget? They could come after you, or someone else could take advantage of the things you knew now. You had to make the wall that would hold your memories strong. Reinforced, fortified, able to withstand a million sieges and then a million more, like the walls of Lucca in Italy._

_Lucca. It gave you an idea. Setting aside your recording device, you began to write, reminding yourself to burn the pages when you were done._

_You wouldn’t just forget. Forgetting was dangerous and suspicious. You had been gone too long that amnesia would be plausible. But you could revise, rewrite, create a new history, and make yourself remember that instead. You just had to make it map to what you remember now, however loosely, so that the chance of inconsistencies wouldn’t make the whole thing collapse._

_You paused, and thought. Italy. Then you smiled. Yes, Italy would be the start, and he would become Giamo, because he had to stay in the story somehow._

_You wrote._

* * *

 

Your eyes flutter open. Your dreams were odd last night, you think, stretching and preparing for the day ahead.

You had no classes today, no meetings. You planned to check on Mr. Henderson, your old former landlord, but that was it for today. The day was otherwise yours.

You had slept late, but your roommate still wasn’t back. You didn’t care. You got dressed and left, not even leaving a note.

On your way to Mr. Henderson’s you picked up coffee for yourself and him. Black, because Mr. Henderson liked adding his own cream and sugar (and sometimes whiskey), but you took black because you couldn’t stand sweet drinks. You’d save the sweetness for a pastry, or a scone, even a doughnut on special occasions.

You stared at the building Mr. Henderson lived in before going in. You used to live there, with your mother and father, before she died and your dad went off the deep end and became a conspiracy nut. It had been a pretty building then, but it was shabby and worn-down now. Last time you were here, there had only been one tenant other than Mr. Henderson. At least that’s what he told you. You had never seen the guy yourself.

You let yourself in the front door with the key Mr. Henderson had given you, and walked down the hall to knock on his door.

“Mr. Henderson?” you called out. “It’s me.”

After a moment, the door opened, and Mr. Henderson was smiling at you.

“My dear! So good to see you!” he said, opening his arms for a hug. You maneuvered the hand holding the to-go tray of coffee and gave him a hug.

“Sorry I haven’t been by, lately. School’s been insane.” You apologized, handing him one of the coffee cups. Mr. Henderson took it with a smile and placed it on his coffee table before heading to the kitchen for cream and sugar.

“That’s all right, dear, that’s all right. How are your cousins doing? Is Lane still a hard ass?” Mr. Henderson asked you, his eyes gleaming wickedly as he returned with cream and sugar.

“Mr. Henderson!” you chastised him playfully.

“I’m an old man, dear, I can speak as plainly as I please.” He reminds you, taking a sip of his coffee.

“You’ve always spoken plainly, Mr. Henderson. When you weren’t putting on the doddering old man act.” You remind him.

“Ah, yes. I know. I just do it for fun, dear. Or when it suits me.”

The conversation between you and Mr. Henderson continues even as the coffee runs out. He asks about your father, shaking his head when you tell him the tin-foil hat is firmly in place these days. Mr. Henderson asks if you’ve heard the news about the Avengers, and when you say you haven’t he proceeds to explain about the registration act and what it means, how Captain America is apparently fighting it even though Tony Stark is for it.

“Trouble, my dear, trouble.” Mr. Henderson tells you. “I personally agree with the Captain, myself. Sounds too much like those dealings from a few years ago. Too much oversight, too many watchdogs… Never a good sign.”

“I know, Mr. Henderson. What about the other part, though?” you ask.

“Barnes? I’ll tell you something, dear. It sounds to me that Barnes was less a man than a weapon of HYDRA. He was never a person, in that situation. If that’s the case, he’s blameless.”

You nod, and Mr. Henderson pats your hand in his grandfatherly way.

“I wouldn’t worry about these things, my dear. It’s outside of our scope, for now.” He tells you.

“What if it isn’t? What if it’s just the start of some great plan to monitor and restrict the common people?” you ask, before catching yourself and shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Henderson, I must sound like my father.”

Mr. Henderson, however, looks thoughtful. “Maybe not.” He says. “In any case, if you do get involved, I imagine you’ll know what to do when it’s time.”

You nod and look at the clock. Time has gotten away from you. You apologize to Mr. Henderson, but he only smiles and shepherds you to the door.

“You’re young, my dear. You have too much to do to spend time with an old man like me.” He says, giving you a hug.

“Thank you, Mr. Henderson.” You tell him, returning his hug.

“I’ve told you a thousand times, dear.” He reminds you with a stern look. “Call me Will.”

“Well then, Will, I’ll see you next week, then?” you ask as you go through his door.

“Looking forward to it, my dear!” Will calls after you as you leave.

You always like checking in on Mr. Henderson- Will, you think as you lock the front door behind you. He’s always full of life and asking you questions. It’s a shame you can’t visit more often, you think as you begin your walk home.

**Author's Note:**

> The book being read in the flashback is The Last Manchu by Henry Pu Yi.  
> Alright, as I mentioned in a comment on the previous part, the next few parts (three or four of them) are going to be an interlude set when Bucky and the Reader Character are on the run. This is to fill in a few gaps in the narrative, show some general growth in their relationship, and to just have some fun in showing what went on. Then we get back to the main story.


End file.
